MORNING SERIAL

IMMEDIATELY, Thermos flasks of hot sweet tea were produced from the bulging bags of towels and sandwiches, and the mothers and aunties set to gossiping and laughing while sipping the tea from plastic cups.

Mam installed a couple of deckchairs for us, and Anne flopped into one and began to read a book while Gareth and I wriggled out of our shorts and sandals and into our swimming costumes while dancing with a towel wrapped around our waists for the sake of modesty.

Allyson was already bored with childish company and mooched off in search of the other big kids from the back seat of the bus.

Before we were let loose, Mam insisted on applying sun tan oil onto our shoulders and backs. I don’t know what that stuff was, but it smelled evil and vinegary and was doled out from an unmarked medicine bottle. It must have been homemade, and was certainly of dubious worth.

At long last we were released, and my brother ran with me full tilt across the sand. At first all was fluffy and dry and hot underfoot, with embedded sprigs of dried out bladderwrack pricking our toes, then the ground grew wetter and cooler and flatter as we steadily closed the distance between us and the sea.

Behind us the promenade dwindled, already far away, and the grown-ups dwindled with it, and the world became an upturned bowl of blue.

Our feet pattered fast on the wet sand, gulls screeched, the breeze picked up and we hurled ourselves into a world without obstacle or boundary.

We hit the sea at full speed, splashing in awkwardly, lifting our knees high to overstep the first wavelets. The cold of the water was stunning. It didn’t seem possible that on a day so warm, this water could be so cold. So we kicked the freezing spray in each other’s faces, howling and laughing, and the salty taste crept in at the corner of my mouth and stung my eyes.

Then it was time to try our courage and wade out deeper, and I gasped as the cold, cold water reached my waist.